


The Sacristy

by shara



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blasphemy, Bottom Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, improbable sexual position, inappropriate use of holy oil, lots of blasphemy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:01:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28997931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shara/pseuds/shara
Summary: Cas finds him in the sacristy of the church they're staking out for a ghoul sighting tonight.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 80





	The Sacristy

**Author's Note:**

> This doesn't necessarily fit into canon anywhere but Castiel's characterization seems to change so much in canon that I feel compelled to say this story involves mid-series characterizations of both characters. But also it's a PWP so it doesn't matter too much.

Cas finds him in the sacristy of the church they're staking out for a ghoul sighting tonight. He's digging through the drawers of the vestment cabinet with his back to the door when Cas sneaks up on him with: "Dean." 

He jumps of course, nearly dropping the bottle he had pulled out of a drawer.

"You need a bell," Dean says, turning to look at him. Cas is haloed in the doorway by the late afternoon light coming from the church's big windows behind him.

"Sorry for scaring you," Cas says, ignoring this. He doesn't look sorry. He's looking at Dean with curious eyes. "What are you doing here?"

As a matter of fact, he was stealing holy oil. They'd been running low and since they were working in a church tonight... He holds up the little bottle for Cas to see.

"Needed refills," Dean says.

Cas raises his eyebrows but says nothing. He steps into the small room and peers around, taking in the white walls and dark wooden beams, the shelves and drawers of sacred vessels. He opens the glass door of a wall cabinet and touches a finger to the golden chalice inside. 

"This room is a repository of holy objects," Cas says as he closes the cabinet door and slides his eyes back over to Dean, dark and searching, and suddenly—Dean’s vision narrows and it's like there's not enough air in the room. Cas walks towards him and puts a hand on Dean's hip, pulls him close. Dean looks at his eyes, his mouth, licks his lips.

"Yeah," he says, feeling a little heady. "It's the sacristy."

He drops the bottle on the table behind him and runs his hands up Cas' broad chest, under the pressed suit and flipped over tie, and that old trenchcoat, familiar. He breathes in the faint smell of ozone that always follows Cas around, like the aftermath of a storm.

"I thought you weren't getting here till later," Dean says, anticipation making his heart rate pick up.

"I sensed that I was wanted here," Cas says evenly, and kisses him.

One of the things that still surprises Dean is how filthy Cas kisses. Dean figures it's because Cas primarily learned how to kiss from porn and Dean himself but hey, he's not complaining. He lets Cas lick his mouth open and slide his tongue in, lets Cas press him against the cabinet, possessive and urgent. Cas' broad hands curve around his hips, palm his ass and slide under his shirt, warm against his skin. Dean feels Cas’ thumb run along the line of his hardening dick over the front of his jeans and breaks the kiss to gasp in a breath. Cas immediately takes the opportunity to duck his head and kiss Dean’s neck, nip at the skin there, the light touch of Cas' stubble scraping him and making him shiver.

"The door—" Dean manages. "Sam—"

Cas murmurs into Dean's neck and waves a hand vaguely behind him to make the door shut on its own. 

"We're supposed to be working, you know," Dean tries again, though he's not sure why he's bothering to argue when he's undoing Cas' belt at the same time. Maybe it’s the fact that doing this in a church feels extra illegal, like an archangel is going to come smite them where they stand or something.

“We’re always working,” Cas responds in between sucking kisses at the spot under Dean’s ear that he’s always liked.

Dean huffs out a laugh. “Can’t argue with that.”

He’s got Cas’ dick out finally and Cas stops and moans in his ear when Dean curves his hand around it, like he’s been waiting—aching for it. The sound makes Dean's mouth water and he pushes Cas backwards to give himself room to sink down to his knees for his sacrament. Cas’ cock is hard and beautiful; Dean holds it with one hand as he licks a stripe along the underside, a tease until he pulls the head into his mouth. He moves his tongue around the head, pressing gently at the join underneath, sliding along the slit. At Cas’ choked off groan above him, he grins like an asshole but obediently sucks the rest of him in, letting the head of Cas’ cock slide along the roof of his mouth, taking him in as far as he can. Every time he lets Cas’ cock slide out of his mouth, he looks up through his eyelashes at Cas, meeting his piercing gaze, the single point of his attention.

Cas keeps one hand braced against the cabinet, and the other curved around Dean’s jaw, his thumb brushing along Dean’s cheekbone, soft and sweet. Dean knows Cas can feel his jaw working against his palm as he sucks his dick and the thought makes him hot; he can feel a flush rising on his own chest. He pulls off once to take a breath and say, because he can't help himself, “You know what would make this perfect? If you were in a priest getup right now.”

Cas raises his eyebrows and combs his fingers through Dean’s hair. 

“That’s very odd, Dean,” he says, but without judgment. Dean smiles up at him in response, all teeth, and dives back in. It's taken them a while, but he's glad they made it here, that he can do this for Cas, help him shake off a little divinity and explore the pleasures of the flesh. So he licks him and sucks him and draws him in, until little benedictions fall from Cas' lips and Cas pulls away. Cas tugs him up to his feet and pulls him close to kiss him, rough and wet.

“Take your pants off,” Cas says against his lips. “And give me the holy oil.”

The order sends a shiver of excitement through Dean. There was a time when he would have wanted to pretend that he didn’t like being handled by Cas like this, but they have too many years behind them now and he doesn't even blink before kicking off his boots and sliding his jeans and boxers down over his straining dick. Cas doesn’t help, instead just leans into his space, bracketing him with his arms, kissing his jaw and his neck, getting in the way. 

Dean chucks his jeans to the side and finds the bottle of oil where he had dropped it earlier. He pushes it into Cas’s palm and turns to face the cabinet, leaning over it on his elbows and sticking his ass out, ready, beyond ready.

“No,” Cas says, pulling at Dean’s hips to turn him back around. “I want to see you.”

It's a more difficult angle but Cas gets his hands under Dean's thighs and hoists him onto the cabinet. Dean shoves away the vestments that were laid out on top of the cabinet to give himself room and leans back on his hands.

“We gotta remember to clean this place up when we’re done,” he says, watching Cas pour holy oil onto his fingers. “And you’re going to have to steal more holy oil for us if you use all that up.”

“I think I can manage that,” says Cas easily, as he slides his arm under Dean’s left knee and lifts it to open him up. That’s another thing Dean appreciates about Cas—he doesn’t like to waste much time. 

Dean shivers when he feels Cas touch an oil-slick finger to his hole. The holy oil doesn’t feel any different from regular oil or lube of course, but there’s still something that feels blasphemous about using it this way, about _Cas_ using it this way. Even without the heavenly host throwing it in their faces half the time, Dean knows what Cas gave up for him, how he fell for him. But he wonders sometimes if he was the apple or the snake, and if maybe Cas had always been waiting to bite into something forbidden the way he bites marks into Dean's skin. 

Cas watches him now with heavy lidded eyes and his head tilted slightly, almost as if he can hear Dean's thoughts. He moves his finger in small circles around Dean's entrance, slow and considering. When he finally pushes his finger in, Dean huffs out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Cas slides his finger in and out, plying him open, and as he adds a second finger Dean drops his head back and flutters his eyes closed at the stretch.

"Eyes on me," Cas directs quietly, and Dean groans and pulls his head back up with effort. Cas always looks at him direct and bold, no guile in his gaze, and Dean feels pinned by it, cracked open and vulnerable. He’s hyperaware of the sounds in the room, the wet slick sounds of Cas' fingers fucking him, and his own uneven breathing.

Cas pushes in a third finger and presses against the bundle of nerves inside him and Dean can’t help it, he gasps. His cock has already made a mess leaking precome on his stomach and he’s not sure how much longer he can last. He can feel his arms starting to shake from holding himself up.

“Gotta hurry this up,” Dean grinds out through gritted teeth.

Cas takes mercy on him and removes his fingers, a small smile curving up the corner of his mouth. He bends down to kiss Dean’s knee where he’s been holding it up. 

“You are beautiful,” Cas says softly, like he’s stating a fact.

He’s never felt less so in his life, half-naked on a vestment cabinet with his shirt rucked up and his dick hanging out, sweaty and flushed, but he only rolls his eyes a little and pulls Cas in by his tie to kiss him. He keeps a hand curled around Cas’ neck as he watches him pour out more holy oil to slick up his dick. He takes the time to run his thumb along Cas’ jaw, drag it through the stubble there, and press it against the bow of Cas’ bottom lip, watching his eyes, his lips, his hand on his own dick. Cas lets him touch for a moment and then nips at his thumb; Dean pulls it away, grinning. 

“Hold on to me,” Cas murmurs, and Dean slides his arms around Cas’ shoulders, ready, his heart rate picking back up. 

Cas moves his arms under Dean’s thighs and lifts him off the table with that superhuman angel strength and pulls him close, squeezes his ass and uses a hand to guide his dick to Dean’s opening. As Cas pushes in, Dean feels the stretch and burn and lets out a moan, long and low, face buried in Cas’ neck. Dean keeps an arm around Cas’ neck and grips Cas’ shoulder with his other hand, holding on as Cas rocks into him, filling him up slowly, wet with the slick of the oil. Cas pants into Dean’s neck when he bottoms out, and takes a moment to mouth at the underside of Dean’s jaw before starting to move again, rolling his hips against Dean’s ass, every movement making Dean grunt.

“Jesus,” Dean curses as Cas’ dick drags against his prostate on every withdrawal, his orgasm building back in him. It's almost not fair the way Cas doesn't break a sweat holding him up, fucking him deep like this, with his angelic grace helping him, but Dean is shaking apart from it.

“ _Castiel_ ,” Cas growls in his ear and even through the haze of sex in his mind, Dean grins.

“Castiel,” he agrees, and holds tight to Cas' iron bicep and gasps into his neck as he comes, without either of their hands on his dick, and his ass clenching around Cas' dick pulls him over too. Dean opens his eyes to see Cas' eyes glow blue as Cas draws on his grace for strength to keep them both upright, while pumping and pumping the last of himself into Dean.

They're both out of breath when they separate, Cas gently setting him back down on the cabinet and pulling out of him, looking normal again, human again. Dean swipes his sweaty hair off his forehead as Cas leans over him and places soft kisses on his cheek, his jaw, the corner of his mouth.

"All right," Dean says, rubbing the back of Cas' neck. "All right."

Cas always gets like this after sex, gentle and reverent, wanting to touch Dean all over. Dean tolerates it until his heart rate returns to normal and the wetness between his legs starts to feel cold and gross.

"Come on," says Dean, pushing at him. "You gotta help me clean up."

Cas hums into his neck and finally pulls back, and with the glow of Cas' healing magic, the mess on their clothes and between Dean’s legs disappears. 

“Handy,” Dean says, hopping off the cabinet. “How come you never do that when we need to clean up the kitchen, huh?”

He sees Cas rolling his eyes as he picks up Dean’s jeans and boxers off the floor to hand to him. As Dean gets dressed, Cas does his pants back up and moves to rearrange the vestments back on top of the cabinet that Dean had pushed them off from earlier and then frowns, a finger on the fabric.

"What?" Dean asks, tying up his boots.

Cas turns to look at him. "Were you imagining me wearing these before I came in here? The 'priest getup' you mentioned earlier."

Dean ducks his head to hide his smile. "Could have crossed my mind, yeah," he allows.

Cas looks like he can't decide whether to look disapproving or not. "I sensed your longing earlier which is why I flew here, but I wasn’t aware of the details."

Dean thinks about this. "Angelic booty call, huh?" he says. "Gotta keep that in mind."

"No, that is not what prayer is for, Dean," Cas says sternly.

"Pretty sure that's not what holy oil is for either," Dean counters, picking up the bottle from the floor and pocketing it. Cas looks vaguely abashed and Dean grins. He slings an arm around Cas' shoulders to steer him out of the room. "Come on, let's find Sam and kill this ghoul."

**Author's Note:**

> Written because I just wanted them to fuck using holy oil.


End file.
